


Me Too

by Akiko_Natsuko



Series: BixFreed [22]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Memories, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 10:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22968346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: When had he fallen in love with Freed Justine?When Bickslow cast his mind back over the time they’d spent together, there was no singular moment that seemed to jump at him, and it took him a while to realise that it was because the process of falling in love with Freed had been a gradual process. There was no love at first sight, wishing on a star or stirring in the world. Instead, it had been like a seed planted in spring, a tiny spark of possibility forming all those years ago when he had first met Freed.
Relationships: Bickslow/Freed Justine
Series: BixFreed [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1188712
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	Me Too

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that if you want to talk to me about my fics and writing, or anime/shows/games in general then you can now find me on discord [The Unholy Trinity](https://discord.gg/6sSddAWa5c).

The infirmary was too quiet. It always was, and Bickslow almost huffed a laugh at the realisation that he had been in here often enough to know that with such certainty. However, he caught himself before the sound could slip out because as much as he wanted to shatter the silence that lay over him with an almost physical weight, he didn’t want to do anything that would prevent him from listening to Freed’s strained, ragged breathing. He’d lost the thread of sound once, a quiver that became a tremble starting in his fingers as he reached out to grip Freed’s hand, needing more than sound and the sight of Freed’s chest rising and falling to reassure him that the other man was still with him.

_I almost lost him_

That thought was deafening and unescapable in the silence, written in the way that his hand was still shaking even with Freed’s calloused palm against his, and in the bandages covering most of Freed’s chest and right arm. Injuries that should have killed him. That had nearly killed him, and Bickslow’s breath caught in his throat, remembering…

_Dust trickled down on him, and Bickslow groaned shaking his head to banish the layer that had already settled over him while he was out, before lifting his head. The world was doubled for a moment, a disorientating blur of colours and shapes that he couldn’t quite make out, and he squeezed his eyes shut and took a shuddering breath as he waited for it to stop moving. What the hell happened? His head was throbbing – a blow? No, that wasn’t right. He… they had been combing through the old building when he’d bumped into something although he couldn’t remember what. What he could remember was a warm body crashing into his, a split second before the world had fallen away from him in a dazzling array of black smoke and dancing flames, and his head shot up, pain lancing through the side of it and making him tilt to the side._

_“Freed…” He tried to call, wincing as instead, he found himself coughing, the words coming out as more of wheeze than anything. Lifting a trembling hand to his chest, he pressed against it as he fought to catch his breath. The pain focused him though, the world settling into place, although there was a fuzziness around the edges that worried him, but not as much as the confirmation that he was alone as his vision cleared enough to make out the remains of the room. There were small pockets of flame, adding to the smoke in the air, making it harder to breathe, and the room had been reduced to rubble. A trap? He groaned, knowing that he would never hear the end of it when Evergreen learned that he had walked into something basic, and Freed… that pulled his thoughts back to the matter of hand, and as the coughing abated, he cautiously pushed himself upright. “Freed?”_

_There was no answer, not that he had really been expecting one, because if Freed had been a position to answer him or get to him, then he would never have woken on his own. “Freed?” He lifted his voice as much as he could, head throbbing with each word as he strained to hear over the sound of settling rubble and his own ragged breathing. Nothing. Panic pushed him to his feet, although he nearly ended up face-down on the floor as his legs threatened to cave, the world swimming wildly for a moment and he had to reach out and brace himself on the shattered remains of the wall as his stomach threatened to rebel. He paused for a moment before shoving himself away from the wall, staggering and nearly tripping over the rubble, lifting a hand to his head, unsurprised when his fingers came away bloody. Ouch, he thought, before letting his had drop as he looked around. “Freed?”_

_He had been lucky._

_The damage got worse the closer he got to the door and the weight of that body… of Freed slamming into him, replayed through his mind. Even as there was a swooping, sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. Freed, what have you done? Deep down, he already knew the answer, because this was Freed, and that was what scared him the most, and there was real terror in his voice this time as he called for him again. “Freed! Freed, where are…?” He trailed as a flash of colour caught his attention, and it felt as though the bottom had dropped out of the world as he lunged forward – green hair splayed across the ground, jacket torn and smouldering and far too still, and pale were it not for the blood trickling from his nose and mouth. “Freed!”_

He drew in a ragged breath, lifting his gaze to Freed’s face. The blood had long since been washed away, and he had regained some colour over the last day, the cuts and bruises standing out a little less vividly. It wasn’t enough to replace the image of Freed sprawled on the ground, barely breathing, bloody and bruised, or to ease the gnawing guilt as he studied the other man.

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen Freed this severely injured, their Captain had made a habit of protecting them over the years and taking the brunt of the damage, much to his and Evergreen’s chagrin, although they had long since come to accept that it was just part of who he was. Not that it made it easier to see him like this. But this time was different because Bickslow had been the one who’d caused this. Rationally he knew that wasn’t true, but he couldn’t forget the pull of what they now understood to be a tripwire as he collided with it or the impact of Freed’s body as he was shoved to safety. Freed managing to react before Bickslow had even had a clue what was happening.

_My fault,_ he thought, and he looked down at the hand still clutching Freed’s wondering if he even had the right to be sat here, clinging to the Rune Mage as though he was enough to keep him here with him. But, even with the doubt and the ache of guilt in his heart, he couldn’t bring himself to let go, and that was a whole different dilemma.

_“You love him…” Evergreen said after he’d finished relaying what had happened. His head was bandaged, although it would need to be looked at again, but right now he was being left alone after he’d made it clear that he wasn’t moving from outside the door that Freed had been whisked through. He went rigid at her words, a denial on the tip of his tongue before two things dawned on him. One, it hadn’t been a question, but a statement said with the same conviction that she’d once told Laxus that they would follow him to the end no matter what. And two, he couldn’t say the words. He couldn’t deny it, and instead, he found himself looking down at the ground, as he gave a tiny nod, hands clenching against his knees._

Even now the realisation was raw and fresh, nothing like what he’d thought falling in love would feel like, but then again, in his rare thoughts on the subject the other person… _Freed, it has always been Freed,_ he corrected himself, unable to lie even in the privacy of his own thoughts… wasn’t unconscious in hospital, and still hovering uncomfortably close to an edge that Bickslow couldn’t see. His fingers tightened around Freed. Squeezing. Pleading silently with him to hold on, to keep fighting, and to come back to him, so that he could do something with this terrifying, thrilling knowledge, knowing that if he didn’t Evergreen would, because she had promptly slapped him upside of the head before drawing him into a tight hug, and telling him to tell Freed or she would.

It wasn’t that simple.

While, he knew how he felt, realising that he had known for a while although he hadn’t admitted it to anyone even himself, he wasn’t sure when it had changed or why. Freed would want to know. Not because he would doubt Bickslow, but because he would doubt himself. Neither he nor Evergreen were blind to the fact that Freed for all his strength and skill, questioned himself more than anyone. Some of it was a throwback to what had happened with the Battle of Fairy Tail, but it had been there before that. A throwback to his childhood, where the darkness in his magic and the demon that simmered beneath his skin had set him apart and made him a target of the fears that people seemed to develop as soon as faced with the unknown. He would hear the words, but he would question and doubt it, and Bickslow needed. No, wanted, to have the right words to silence those doubts.

_When had it changed?_

Even when he cast his mind back over the time they’d spent together, there was no singular moment that seemed to jump at him, and it took him a while to realise that it was because the process of falling in love with Freed had been a gradual process. There was no love at first sight, wishing on a star or stirring in the world. Instead, it had been like a seed planted in spring, a tiny spark of possibility forming all those years ago when he had first met Freed.

_Bickslow pressed himself into the wall, wondering if he leant into it enough if the concrete would eventually absorb him. He wanted to disappear. To go somewhere where he wasn’t surrounded by fearful glances and whispers, and hands raised in fear and anger. A place where his magic – the one part of this whole mess that he wouldn’t give up – would be accepted. It was a dream. No one wanted him, and he had nowhere to go. Even this quiet moment wouldn’t last, either he would be hunted down, or he would have to go back, and both options terrified him._

_“Hello?” The quiet voice was unexpected as he had been huddled in on himself, hands covering his eyes and head bowed, and he went rigid, not daring to look up. He didn’t recognise the voice, but that didn’t mean they weren’t a threat. There was a sigh somewhere above him, but it sounded strange. It was only when he heard movement, whoever it was coming slowly closer, that he realised that it hadn’t been angry but almost…sad? “Could you look at me?” Bickslow couldn’t help himself, head shooting up at the quiet question. Something that no one had ever asked him before, out of fear for the power in his eyes, blinking as he took in the boy who was crouched in front of him._

_“Who…?”_

_“Freed Justine,” the boy said formally, holding out a hand with an expectant look. Bickslow stared at the hand for a long moment. Was this a trick? It wouldn’t be the first time, and he had promised himself that he was never going to fall for that again, but when he looked up and met turquoise eyes, there was something in the other boy’s eyes that made him reach out, trembling to shake the offered hand._

_“Bickslow.”_

_“I’m sorry about what happened in the square,” Freed said, letting him go before Bickslow got overwhelmed, the Skeith mage blinking at him in confusion. Seeing this Freed grimaced, and there was a flash of something in his eyes that made him seem a lot older than he was, something dark and dangerous that should have had Bickslow running for the hills, but instead, it called to him. “I couldn’t get to you in time, and by the time the crowd had cleared you’d bolted.”_

_“You saw?” Bickslow asked, looking down, as shame curled in the pit of his stomach. He had known better than to venture into the market, but he’d found some jewels, and he’d been desperate for something sweet to eat, anything was better than the slop they served at ‘home’, and his growling belly had won over common sense. Unfortunately, it hadn’t taken long for him to be spotted by some of the children who made it their job to make his life hell, and it had spiralled from there as they’d realised he’d had money – accusing him of thievery and worse, the words spilling out into the crowd around him. Panic had forced his magic to the surface as he moved people out of his way. So, of course, people thought that was how he had got the money, and the mood had turned uglier. He reached up, feeling the bruise that he knew was forming across his cheek from where something had been tossed at him, and he shrank in on himself as he saw Freed nod out of the corner of his eye. “You should probably stay away from me, they…”_

_“Will do nothing.” He wasn’t sure whether it was the sheer confidence in those words or the steel contained within them forged by an underlying fury that wasn’t aimed at him, but Bickslow found himself looking up at the other boy and staring. Freed’s right eye was pitch black, and Bickslow could practically feel the magic coming off him in waves – as dark, if not darker than his, but tightly controlled even his anger. “I can take care of myself,” Freed added, meeting his gaze._

_“But…” Bickslow trailed off, as Freed rose smoothly to his feet before holding out a hand to him again, mismatched gaze even._

_“You don’t have to stay here.” It was the words he’d dreamt of for so long, and he was frozen in place, unable to move or even think. Freed seemed to realise because his expression softened although his crackling magic didn’t subside. “You’re more than your magic, and your magic is more than a curse.” It sounded like he was echoing someone else’s words, and he realised he must have said as much because Freed smiled, finally looking his age. “I am, and if you come with me you can meet him, and others that will welcome you just as you are.”_

Hope. At that point in his life, Bickslow hadn’t known what the feeling was that had risen at Freed’s words, but it had been enough to make him reach out for the offered hand. Not realising at the time, that he had just been given more than a feeling, but a place to belong, a home and a family. But it had been the start of something because the two of them had been inseparable after that – at first because Bickslow had been afraid to trust anyone else, and later the idea of being apart had been almost inconceivable because it was just who they were. Always together. Always back to back when things went south, and neither of them had ever had to second guess or look to see where the other was, knowing that they would be there and what they were going to do. A closeness that Bickslow had never thought he would be able to have with another person, and so the spark, the seed of something more had started to germinate beneath the surface.

It had taken time, and for a time, its growth had been masked by the changes around them. First had come Evergreen, increasing their group to three, not that Bickslow had minded that because he had seen the same hurt in her, that he knew he and Freed still carried. Their magic setting them apart and binding them together. She was their friend, their third, and with the wisdom of hindsight, he realised that she had known even then what they were, or what they could become because even as she had slid into her place in their group, she had never stood between them.

Laxus had been different. He had come into their lives like a rolling storm that swept up everything in its wake, and they’d somehow found themselves in the middle, caught in the calm of the storm. It had been the Dragon-slayer’s arrival in their life, and the shift in their dynamic that had caused the first stirrings of something more.

_Bickslow sighed as he stared down into his drink, fingers curled tightly around the tankard. He knew that he should be back at the inn with the others talking about what was going to happen when they returned to Magnolia, but for once, he found himself needing to be alone. It was a feeling that had been growing recently. A strange, burning feeling in his chest. A loneliness even when he was surrounded by his friends, his family…his Freed. His hand jerked, knocking the drink flying as that thought registered, and he muttered an apology as the barmaid appeared with a cloth, mopping up the mess with a sharp order to be more careful before another drink was sat in front of him before he could ask. Numbly he paid for it, and took a long sip, as he tried to get his thoughts in order._

_Mine? Where the hell did that come from?_

_He had always known that he was unusually close to Freed, and while the Guild had always just accepted it, he’d caught the sideways glances when they were away from the guildhall. The whispers. He’d just never given them much mind. Why should he? They didn’t know what his life had been like, or what Freed had given him, or the feeling of knowing that there was always going to be someone at your back._

_And that was the problem._

_Freed wasn’t there as much anymore, and Bickslow knew that was part of growing up and choosing to tie themselves to Laxus, and he didn’t regret it. He was as bound to the path as Freed and Evergreen were, for the same reasons, as well as his own. But… He closed his eyes, the burning feeling in his chest rising and swelling as he thought back over the last few months, about the way that Freed had drifted closer to Laxus, always watching the Dragon-slayer’s back with an intensity that made it feel as though there was something more to him. He didn’t follow Laxus blindly, speaking out more than Bickslow and Evergreen combined, and yet there was no doubt in Bickslow’s mind that he would follow the Dragon-slayer to the end, and for the first time Bickslow found himself wondering if Freed would do the same for him._

_It was a stupid fear. They weren’t together as much these days, like now – even though Bickslow had been the one to slip away when he had seen Freed sat with the other two, focused on Laxus, and not even looking for him among the crowd. But when they fought nothing had changed, the two of them perfectly in step, and his lips curled up for a moment, as he remembered how Laxus had tried to fall into a pattern with the two of them and instead thrown it off. His eyes widened, the smirk dimming as quickly as it had formed because he shouldn’t have been happy about that as it had left Freed nursing a deep cut down his side and Bickslow having to haul him to safety, and yet for a moment he had felt an almost vindictive joy that this was something he had that Laxus didn’t, an uncomfortable realisation blossoming in its wake._

_He was jealous._

That was when the seed had started to become ‘more’ he realised. Not quite enough for him to understand why he’d felt that way about Freed, but it was enough to give him pause, to make him cling closer to Freed’s side. Fighting for something that he couldn’t even put a finger on. _I really was an idiot,_ he thought, eyes drawn back to the slow rise and fall of Freed’s chest, swallowing thickly. Why had it been so hard to connect the dots? To see what lay right in front of him? He scowled, staring down at their tangled fingers, remembering the last time they had done this.

_It had been late by the time that Bickslow had made it up to the infirmary after his conversation with Makarov and Erza. He tried not to look at the other occupied beds, knowing that they had a lot to make up for, still reeling from everything that had happened, and not sure where the Raijinshuu was supposed to go from here. However, that was a concern for later, as was the burning ache of his own injuries from the battle with Lucy and Loke, and he waved Porlyusica away when the healer made as though to approach him, instead, locking his gaze on the end bed that was hidden by curtains. Quietly, aware of the eyes following him, he’d slipped inside and come to a halt at the sight of Freed curled up asleep on the bed._

_Seeing Freed settled something in his chest, as though everything else would make sense now that he had seen the other man, and perhaps it would he thought, remembering the fear that had gripped him when Mira had told him that Freed was in the infirmary. He knew that he shouldn’t have expected them to come through this uninjured, and they didn’t deserve to – although he still wasn’t sure how he felt about that, not quite ready to face just how wrong they had been, perhaps because he could remember Freed’s determination. Still, it was jarring to see Freed like this, and it took him a couple of minutes to propel himself forward, dropping into the chair next to the bed with a sigh as he studied the Rune Mage. Freed looked like he had been through the wringer, and Bickslow found himself reaching out to brush a finger lightly over a dark bruise, before sighing and let his hand fall away._

_He hated seeing Freed hurt, but he knew that this was just the damage he could see. He didn’t want to think about how Freed was going to react to everything else, to the fact that he’d heard whispers of what Laxus’ punishment might be. If he was honest, he was dismayed by the thought too, because for all the lurking, gnawing jealously, he had grown close to the Dragon-slayer too. But more than that, as much as the jealousy lingered, he didn’t want to see what Freed might do if Laxus had to leave. Would he walk away too? Not that Bickslow would let him go without him, but the thought that Freed might choose to leave with or without him was like a punch to the gut. Or would he stay and regret it?_

_Bickslow groaned, hating that he could still think and feel like this even with everything going on around them. There was far more to worry about than his own complicated feelings, the ‘mine’ that he still didn’t fully understand, and yet he couldn’t help it, concerned that he might lose Freed to all of this._

It had been right there, and it was beginning to dawn on him that Evergreen wasn’t the only want who’d known. Mira had been the one to seek him out to tell him about Freed, and it hadn’t just been because she had been the one to put Freed in the infirmary, and he groaned he remembered how unsurprised she’d seemed when he’d all but bolted before she’d even finished telling him. _She knew._ Laxus had known too he thought with a groan, recalling how the Dragon-slayer had pulled him aside just before he’d left.

_“I know that I don’t need to ask this.” The Dragon-slayer hadn’t been looking at him, but up at the guildhall as though he was trying to imprint it on his memory, and maybe he was, and Bickslow frowned and looked down. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about all of this. On the one hand, he was furious that Laxus was leaving, and that he was the only one being punished. On the other hand, there was relief, that Freed was letting him go and even seemed to have accepted it without too much upset, although Bickslow wasn’t fooled, and knew that the fallout would come later once the Rune Mage had taken the time to process everything that had happened._

_“What?” He’d prompted, realising that Laxus hadn’t continued and lifted his head to look at him, hoping that his feelings weren’t written across his face._

_“Watch over them,” Laxus tilted his head across to where Evergreen and Freed were waiting for Bickslow, the latter stood ramrod straight, the same strained smile still in place. “Especially Freed…” The Skeith mage tensed and scowled before he could stop himself, and Laxus chuckled – not the hard, mocking sound they’d heard for so long, but softer and more honest. “I know, I know. That’s why I said that I didn’t need to ask. Just take care of him…them, and yourself.”_

_Everyone knew apart from me,_ Bickslow thought with a noise that was halfway between a laugh and frustrated sigh before his shoulders slumped. _And Freed_ , he amended looking at the Rune Mage. Which was the crux of his current problem really. It was hard to realise just how long the seed had been there, and to acknowledge his own feelings for Freed, especially now, when the possibility of still losing him lingered over their heads. But it was harder still to admit, that he wasn’t entirely sure if Freed felt the same way.

Oh, they were close, even closer than they had been before the Raijinshuu and Laxus and the Battle of Fairy Tail. That had been the turning point. It had taken all three of them time to find their equilibrium again, and to etch out a place for themselves in a guild that should have pushed them away, and Laxus had been right, Freed had needed him, as his act of acceptance had broken soon after Fantasia. But it hadn’t brought the schism that Bickslow had feared in his darker moments, because caught up in his own thoughts, he had forgotten how strong Freed was. He had grieved. He had blamed himself. And he had borne the weight of all that and emerged stronger for it, focusing his attention on the Raijinshuu and the Guild. The three of them had grown through it, closer than ever, and tied by more than just their magic and pasts, and yet it was Bickslow that he had turned to in those rare moments of weakness when everything became too much. Something that Evergreen had never begrudged them and had encouraged at times – and he now knew why.

Yet, for all that, Bickslow still wasn’t sure how Freed felt, and it made him hesitate. _But I almost lost him. I could still lose him._ The three of them were used to the feeling of ‘too late’. It was something that had shadowed every interaction with the Guild in the immediate aftermath of the Battle of Fairy Tail, as they realised what they could have had so much earlier if they’d only opened their eyes. It was beginning to fade now, letting them feel as though they belonged, and Bickslow closed his eyes. He wanted that feeling with Freed. It was more than that though, he didn’t want to regret not saying the words if anything happened, and his fingers tightened, holding tight as he closed his eyes.

_I love you. I’ve always loved you._

He didn’t know how to put it into words. At least not words that would convey the full depths of his feelings, the weight of the realisations, the regret that it had taken him so long to realise any of this, and the terror that it might already be too late.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat like that, eyes closed, hand clutching Freed’s as he tried to find the words, and settle the churning of his stomach, but he nearly leapt out of his skin when he felt the lightest of pressures against his fingers. Calloused fingers squeezing his ever so lightly, and his eyes flew up, mouth dry as hope surged, the seed that had sprouted beneath everything else blossoming in his chest as he met hazy eyes, Freed’s lips quirking ever so slightly as he croaked.

“Me too…”


End file.
